


Aramis' Regrets

by DebbieF



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: M/M, Past Attempted Rape/Non-Con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-18 13:42:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11875713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebbieF/pseuds/DebbieF
Summary: I'm taking a break from my ongoing story to do another of what I call my d'Art in distress stories. Well, there's not that much distress this time but what there is of it will be in the flashback scene. Nothing graphic so don't worry.This story takes place shortly after season ones: The Good Soldier and is a stand alone.Er... this may not be a stand alone after all. I just had 2 requests about a follow-up so will see what I can do then.See notes at bottom.++++





	1. Chapter 1

_Night under the stars - on the way back to Paris_

"Whelp's been right restless lately." His observance of their youngest hadn't gone unnoticed by Aramis or Athos either, so Porthos believed. D'Artagnan's been tossing and turning in his sleep so much that none of them had rested well. Though they hadn't told the kid that. Didn't want their Gascon feeling guilty. They all had their own demons to deal with. He reckoned d'Artagnan's dreams had something to do with the death of the lad's père.

"I only placed my hand on d'Artagnan's back to gain his attention when he nearly leapt into the air." Noting the change in the boy's attitude as well had become troublesome. The lad's normal olive-toned complexion had appeared a sickly pale, the morning they left on their mission. It had worried Aramis so much, that an hour into their journey, he nearly ordered the young man to go back to the Garrison.

Laying on his bedroll, leaning up on one elbow, sharp blue eyes lingered on his young protégé. "Something preys on d'Artagnan's mind." Spitting out the piece of straw he had been chewing on Athos laid his head down, his gaze never left the object of his concern. "If only he'd open up to us and not let what bothers him fester like an unhealed wound."

"You're a fine one ta talk about _opening up_." Porthos snorted quietly, not wanting to disturb the whelp's much needed sleep.

"Porthos has a point, mon frere." Smirking, Aramis settled his bedroll closer to d'Artagnan's. He had the oddest feeling come over him that somehow he was solely responsible for the youngster's discomfort. Pushing aside this disturbing thought, he too bedded down for the night.

++++

_Paris_

_Next day, late morning - Garrison courtyard_

"One of you gents care to tell me why d'Artagnan looks like death warmed over?" When his men reported to him upon their arrival, it was very obvious to Treville that d'Artagnan's usual upbeat demeanor was sadly lacking. The lad's always been full of enthusiasm, except when assigned parade duty or tasked with cleaning out the stable when punished. Not being able to put his finger on the problem, Treville vowed to get to the bottom of it soon. Receiving nothing but blank faces from the inseparables, he ordered them to come back with an answer that would satisfy him.

++++

Noting d'Artagnan missed that last parry against Rene, Athos looked away and caught Aramis' frown. "Tis as though he's forgotten most of what I've taught him."

"I could talk ta 'im," Porthos offered. It hurt to watch the kid digress. At the rate d'Artagnan continued, he was going to get himself injured or killed and take someone else along with him.

"I'm not sure if that's best, Porthos." Remembering back to when they had left Marsac with Constance, only to find out the former Musketeer had tried to assault the young woman, Aramis knew how angry d'Artagnan had been over the incident and rightly so. They were all appalled at Marsac's actions.

But it was later when they had decided to move Marsac to Aramis' apartments, with d'Artagnan as his former brother's guard dog, that Aramis remembered how frightfully white in the face the Gascon had appeared. He and the others had been gone for a time trying to sort things out about Treville's involvement over Savoy. At first, Aramis had thought their youngest was ill. When he had tried to talk with d'Artagnan about it, the lad's tongue was tied. Questioning Marsac had been no better. The man he used to know had an odd look in his eyes whenever they latched onto d'Artagnan. The latter would always look away from Marsac, with something akin to fear in the Gascon's eyes. That alone set off alarm bells, but Aramis felt whatever took place could be dealt with another time as other matters were of greater import.

Filled with nothing but regrets for not having brought up the subject beforehand, he had willingly turned a blind eye to whatever problem had developed between Marsac and d’Artagnan. Non, that wasn’t it. Aramis had been too concerned on what happened to twenty brethren back in Savoy. Now it was too late to ask questions Aramis should have asked before, again much to his regret. Heaven knew the young Gascon would shy away anytime Marsac’s name was even mentioned.

“Aramis, where did you disappear too?” Athos and Porthos had tried to gain their brother’s attention for the past ten minutes but the marksman appeared to be lost in his own mind. Sharing a concerned look with Porthos, Athos clapped Aramis’ on the shoulder. “You back with us, mon ami?”

“Mmmmm.” Looking sideways at the older man, Aramis nodded. “Oui.”

“What is your problem? Bad enough something’s obviously wrong with d’Artagnan.” Exasperation filled Athos' voice. “We don’t need to add your troubles to it as well.”

“I feel tis time for me to have a talk with the lad.” Barely able to look his friends in the eye, Aramis headed back over to the bench where he had been cleaning his weapons.

Hands on hips, Porthos watched his brother until Aramis settled on the bench. “Why’s ‘e think it’s fine ta talk ta the kid and not me?”

Shrugging a shoulder, Athos couldn’t offer any answers.

“Somethin’ smells and it ain’t Serge’s cookin’.” Catching a hint of a smile flirting about Athos’ lips, Porthos allowed a slim one to pass over his own.

“Speaking of Serge.” Clearing his throat, Athos jerked his head toward the canteen. “I think I’ll fetch us all something to quench our thirsts.”

Listening to the sounds of d’Artagnan losing to Rene again, both Musketeers grimaced.

“Whatever you’re bringin’ back,” shaking his head in sympathy for the kid, Porthos watched d’Artagnan throw his sword away in disgust, “better make it double for the whelp.”

++++

_Early in the evening – the Bonacieux residence_

Used to visitors at this hour, due to her association with her newest tenant d’Artagnan, Constance didn’t fear opening the door to see who was calling. “Oh, tis you.”

“Do not sound so overjoyed to see me, Madame.” Touching his face, Aramis remembered the last time when she had slapped him. Even though he enjoyed violence in a woman perhaps he better tread softly around her this time.

"What's happened now?" While asking the question, she dragged Aramis inside.

"Nothing that I know of," he replied. "Bien, for now that is."

It was a cryptic remark to have made and since this was Aramis speaking normally it wouldn't have bothered her. But tonight it did. "You're just here to chat up d'Artagnan are you?" she snorted. "I know I am only a woman, Aramis, but I don't like being lied too."

Removing his chapeau Aramis had the presence of mind to apologize. "I'm sorry. That was not my intention," he dipped his head toward her. "Tis that I am worried about d'Artagnan." His eyes widened upon hearing Constance say the lad's name at the same time as he.

Rolling her eyes, Constance slammed a basket full of freshly baked bread on her kitchen table. "He doesn't talk to me anymore." She had been worried about d'Artagnan ever since the burial of Marsac. There was certainly no love lost between herself and the former Musketeer. Especially when he had tried to have his way with her. But her young friend's been skittish about the subject whenever Constance tried to speak on it.

"That's why I've come." Leaning against the wall, Aramis crossed his arms in front of him. "He didn't pull palace nor guard duty tonight so I assumed he'd be here since he declined our invitation to join us. Did I assume correctly?"

"Oui. He's up in his room." Snagging his arm, she halted Aramis' steps. "But d'Artagnan told me he was having an early night."

"I'll just look in and if d'Artagnan's asleep I won't disturb him." Patting her hand Aramis went straight up the stairs.

++++

_D'Artagnan's room_

As quietly as possible, Aramis opened the door. Peering inside the room, sure enough, the Gascon appeared to be deeply asleep. It was surprising as even though the hour wasn't that late d'Artagnan had already turned in. When their youngest had begged off going to The Wren with them earlier, it had raised several red flags for Aramis and his brothers. Something was up and that's what Aramis aimed to discover. If not tonight, he'd tackle d'Artagnan over it on the morrow. About to close the door and leave Aramis heard d'Artagnan moan in his sleep a familiar name. One that made Aramis freeze in his tracks.

" _MARSAC... NON!_ "

Observing sheets falling onto the floor while d'Artagnan twisted and turned around, Aramis went directly over to the bed. Hovering over the pup his hands itched to reach out and give comfort to the younger man.

" _STOP TOUCHING ME! NON! MARSAC! STOP!_ " Whimpering in his sleep, d'Artagnan curled up into a ball.

Dread filled Aramis at the Gascon's words. His _regrets_ began to pile up. This explained so much. The nightmares d'Artagnan suffered... the bruised looking eyes from lack of sleep... the pup's lackluster performances at practice... loss of appetite and surly attitude. All added up to something more sinister than any of them could possibly have realized.

He needed to wake the pup up. On the other hand part of Aramis wanted to bolt for the door even more, not wanting to discover what else Marsac had been capable of. Before his resolve weakened further, Aramis reached out a shaking hand to place it lightly on the Gascon's arm. Feeling that this would be another regret he would bear the guilt for, Aramis prepared himself for the worst.

++++

_D'ARTAGNAN'S FLASHBACK_

_Aramis' apartments_

"Stay put!" Pointing his poignard at Marsac's face, d'Artagnan shoved the older man in the nearest chair. His mistake had been in not tying Aramis' old friend up at first opportunity when they had arrived. Though he really couldn't be blamed for the oversight, as d'Artagnan thought he had heard a noise at the door no sooner than his brothers had left. Thinking it was one of them, he went to check it out. When nothing came of it, he returned to Marsac only to find out the man had disappeared.

There were not that many rooms to search so when d'Artagnan checked the bedroom last that's when things went sideways. Taken by total surprise, he was shoved hard onto the empty bed. Twisting around he slashed out with his poignard, meeting nothing but air, while struggling with his attacker.

"Ah!" Marsac cackled maniacally. "This is where I've been wanting you... underneath me, mon petit."

Bucking Marsac off his body, or at least trying too, d'Artagnan turned his face away from the descending lips. A harsh slap to his face made him fight all the harder. Turned out that Marsac was stronger than d'Artagnan took him for. Finding his arms pulled above his head while Marsac gripped both of d'Artagnan's wrists in one hand, he tried to kick the man in the groin. But that proved a fruitless effort on his part too. With the weight of Marsac's body on top of his, d'Artagnan felt the offending touch of the other man's lips on his own and a tongue invading his mouth. Not able to spit it out, wanting badly to gag, d'Artagnan did the only thing left to him... he bit down hard.

Lurching up, Marsac howled with pain then retaliated with a swift backhand to the Gascon's unprotected face. Furious now Marsac used his free hand to slip his belt off and wrapped it around the boy's wrists, effectively tying the Gascon to the metal headboard. Unlacing d'Artagnan's shirt with one hand he used the other to cup the boy's groin. It was the sound of voices that grew ever closer that halted his fun, for the time being. Lifting himself away from the youngster, Marsac held a finger to his lips. " _Not... one... word_ , d'Artagnan, or I'll hurt one of your brothers," he grinned evilly. "And I'd start with Aramis first."

Feeling slightly dizzy from the blow he had just received, d'Artagnan was deeply afraid Marsac would follow through with his threat. Also if he said something now it may ruin Aramis' chance to find the truth his friend desperately wanted about Savoy. So d'Artagnan kept his silence.

_END FLASHBACK_

"Wha - what?" Eyes instantly snapped open while d'Artagnan's eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room. Finding Aramis standing beside his bed was a bit of a shock. When did his brother arrive and why was he here? The candle on his nightstand burned low and cast Aramis' face in half shadow. Wiping sweat away, that dribbled down his forehead, d'Artagnan sat up to lean back against the headboard of his bed. "Aramis, what's going on?" Then it hit him that perhaps one of the others had been hurt. "Athos? Porthos?"

Pulling up a chair Aramis sat down. "They are fine. Tis you we're all worried about." His eyes roamed the pup's worn features and he tsked his displeasure at what he saw. "Talk to me, d'Artagnan."

"About?"

"Whatever occurred between yourself and Marsac when we tasked you with watching him over at my place." In the silence of the room, the boy's harsh breaths were the only things Aramis heard.

"There's nothing to speak about!" Retorting sharply d'Artagnan's head shook back and forth, making his long dark hair cover part of his face.

Perhaps on the morrow Aramis would ask Porthos to kick him where the sun doesn't shine. Why didn't he bother to question d'Artagnan when they had gone back to his apartments? The pup had a hand imprint on the side of his face and Aramis hadn't put two plus two together. Or rather Aramis had put it down to the two of them having simply fought again. After all it was a miracle that d'Artagnan hadn't pulled Marsac apart after having manhandled Constance. It went to show you how set Athos and Porthos were on discovering the truth about Treville's involvement at Savoy, that neither of them at the time noted the redness that hadn't faded from the Gascon's skin. _Regrets... regrets... regrets_... where did they end?

With Aramis' head hanging down staring at his boots, usually so glib with words rolling off his silver tongue, for once he wasn't sure how to get their young one to open up. "Marsac's dead and cannot cause anyone harm ever again." Listening to d'Artagnan begin to hyperventilate Aramis placed both hands on d'Artagnan's chest. "Breathe slowly. In and out," he smiled at the Gascon. "Oui, that's the way. Nice deep breaths." When he felt his young friend calm enough, Aramis whispered, "You know you can't go on this way. Unburden yourself to me." Brushing d'Artagnan's hair away from the lad's face, he waited.

"He tried..." scrunching up his face d'Artagnan twisted his head away. Only to find gentle fingers gripping his chin turning it back again.

"What did he try, pup?"

"I can't believe I let it get that far." With a frustrated groan, d'Artagnan thumped a fist on his leg. "All that hand to hand Porthos had been drumming into me didn't help me either," he berated himself.

"So Marsac took you unawares." Forcing a smile to his lips, Aramis patted the lad's shoulder. "Happens to the best of us... even me." Hearing the snuff of soft laughter from d'Artagnan made Aramis' heart feel much lighter.

Knowing what Aramis wanted to hear, d'Artagnan gripped the older man's hand. "When I think back to it I'm ashamed of myself."

"The only _shame_ here belongs to Marsac." If Aramis had any inkling this would have happened to their youngest, he would have immediately turned Marsac over to Captain Treville shortly after discovering his old friend had just tried to kill the Duke of Savoy.

Unburden myself Aramis says. Here goes then. "Marsac tackled me from behind, got me on the bed and tried to assault me." How's that for unburdening myself, Aramis? "He stuck his tongue down my throat and felt me up." Running his fingers through his tangled hair d'Artagnan banged his head hard against the headboard.

"Stop that," Aramis gently admonished. "You'll give yourself a headache."

"Had one for days anyway." D'Artagnan shrugged the older man's concern off. "What saved my virtue that day was the timely arrival of my brothers." Releasing Aramis' hand, he waited for the question d'Artagnan knew was on the tip of the marksman's tongue.

"Why didn't you tell one of us?"

"Because Marsac threatened to hurt one of you plus it was too important to discover the truth you were searching for." Closing his eyes, d'Artagnan turned his face away again. "Then later you had to kill Marsac to save the captain's life and I just let it go."

"Thing is, lad, _it_ hasn't let you go." Having heard enough, Aramis stood up. Leaning down he lightly kissed d'Artagnan's temple. "Try to rest now. I'll see you in the morn."

++++

Walking past Constance, Aramis grabbed his chapeau from the table where he had placed it. Dipping his head at her when he went to the door to depart, Aramis heard Constance mumbling under her breath about Musketeers not thinking her important enough to keep a secret. So with one foot outside and one foot still inside her home, Aramis came back into the kitchen. "Madame, tis not my story to tell or I would gladly impart it to you." Tipping his head again toward her Aramis slipped back outside, leaving another regret behind.

" _Not my story to tell,_ " she heatedly repeated to herself. "If those boys expect me to put up with their comings and goings in my own home I feel I deserve to know what's going on." Stamping her foot on the floor Constance marched off to her own room. Tempted to slam the door behind her, she decided against it. No use making d'Artagnan feel she was upset over all of this. Constance did hope that that one day the young man would take her into his confidence and tell her what was going on.

++++

_Next day in the afternoon_

He had informed Captain Treville and his brothers about his talk with d'Artagnan. When Aramis explained it had to do with something that had happened between the their Gascon and Marsac, he had to settle Porthos down. "You can't kill Marsac... he's already dead," Aramis had told his huge friend. Then it was his turn to calm Athos down. "If you want the details of the incident you'll have to speak with d'Artagnan."

"Gents, I'm sure after a time d'Artagnan will open up to the rest of us," Treville remarked. "For now have patience," then he grinned, "and the rest of the afternoon off to spend with the boy."

++++

"Tell me why again that we're not having target practice, Aramis?" Feeling he was getting special privileges for some reason, d'Artagnan wasn't pleased. He didn't need treated with kid gloves. Dealing with his own problems was something he could do on his own, thank you very much.

"Because today I'm having a vision problem," Aramis quipped. "I can't see myself doing anything at all."

When Porthos ruffled d'Artagnan's hair, he tried to get away but only ended up bumping shoulders against Athos. "Apologies," he mumbled to his mentor.

"One of these days Porthos will learn to behave." Gripping the back of the pup's neck Athos gave it a light squeeze.

"I'm always on my best behavior." Winking at the whelp, Porthos laughed. "It just so 'appens that my best behavior isn't very good."

"Now, now, boys." Throwing an arm across young d'Artagnan's shoulder Aramis guided the lad down a familiar street, vowing to begin working on those regrets of his starting today. "Let us stop by Madame Bonacieux's before taking our pup out on the town." Rubbing one side of his face Aramis' lips curled upward. "I'm quite sure I'm overdue to be slapped."

++++

_Notes:_

_Quote: "Because today I'm having a vision problem. I can't see myself doing anything at all."_ Is from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "I'm always on my best behavior. It just so happens that my best behavior isn't very good."_ Yeah, another Aunty Acid line.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elenduen and Thimblerig gave me two different ideas they'd be interested in seeing if I did a sequel. Well here it is and I hope I addressed everything.
> 
> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Several days later - Garrison Canteen where lunch is being served_

Placing a plate down in front of the young Gascon, Serge waited for the lad's reaction.

Staring at the huge turkey leg surrounded by steaming roasted potatoes, d'Artagnan glanced up into Serge's weathered face. Noting nothing there but satisfaction written in the older man's expression, d'Artagnan tried for a smile. "My thanks." When Serge patted his shoulder, grinning down at him, d'Artagnan nervously scratched at the few hairs trying to grow on his chin.

Looking at his own food, Porthos frowned at the size of his steak. "'Eh now, Serge!" Why's the whelp's portion so big?" Poking his steak with a fork, he could have sworn it had shrunken even further.

"Lad's appetite's just starting to come around." Giving the inseparables a toothy grin, Serge patted the young Gascon's shoulder again. "Gotta put some meat on those skinny bones of his." Hearing his name being called out by one of Serge's staff, he went running back to his kitchen.

"Porthos, Porthos." Drinking his coffee, Athos smiled over the rim of his cup into d'Artagnan's dark eyes. "I'm quite sure if you asked Serge nicely he'll give you extras."

Gazing at the pup, Aramis was pleased to see d'Artagnan beginning to act more like his old self. "Better eat up, d'Artagnan, or Porthos may just swipe your food when you're not looking."

"He gave me way too much," d'Artagnan complained. "I can't possibly eat all of this." Stabbing his fork into the potatoes, the food didn't quite make it to his mouth. Observing Porthos staring hungrily at d'Artagnan's plate, he felt bad. "Porthos, I'll gladly share."

" _Don't... you... dare!_ " Kicking Porthos' leg under the table, Athos glowered at his larger brother. "The pup needs to build up his strength." Drinking down his fifth cup of coffee Athos noted a sheepish expression steal over Porthos' dark face.

"It's all right, whelp." Throwing a dirty look over at Athos, Porthos began eating his meal. "I can always raid the kitchen later."

"Ummmm, Athos." Wondering if his mentor meant to float his way out of the canteen, d'Artagnan had never seen his friend drink so much coffee at one sitting before. "At the rate you're going Serge won't have enough coffee to serve the others."

"Coffee keeps me busy until tis time to get drunk." Raising his cup in salute to his protégé, Athos drained it dry.

"You'll have a hard time getting to sleep later," d'Artagnan mumbled in-between bites of his turkey leg.

"As I just said, d'Artagnan, I plan on visiting The Wren tonight." He was surprised the youngster didn't pick up on that.

"Yeah," Porthos grunted. "Then Athos will end up passin' out and I'll have ta carry 'im back home."

"I thought you were cutting back." Puzzled, d'Artagnan's eyes rested on his mentor with something akin to worry in them.

"Unfortunately all the upset with Marsac and Savoy gave me an excuse to indulge myself." Grimacing, Athos felt the lad's concern flow over him. Perhaps he won't drink that much later after all. He shouldn't backslide just because an old friend of Aramis shows up out of the blue to turn their world and d'Artagnan's upside down. "You're right, lad. I'll skip The Wren all together." When their youngest beamed at him, Athos felt a warmth inside of him that he hadn't felt in a long while. "What's on your schedule next pup?"

"More training. I have to improve my weakest spot." His eyes slid toward Porthos' large bulk. Rolling his eyes, when a smile so wide threatened to split Porthos' face, d'Artagnan huffed. "Just... be kind." Laughter all around reminded him why he stayed with the inseparables.

++++

_Later in the afternoon - the Bonacieux residence_

Finding fresh flowers in a vase on her kitchen table, Constance was surprised to say the least. Jacques was never that thoughtful plus he was still away procuring materials he needed for several important patrons.

Hearing a light knock on the wooden frame of the entrance to her kitchen, she turned around to see a shy smile gracing the features of her young border. Realizing now where those flowers came from, Constance' puzzled eyes followed d'Artagnan when he stepped further inside. "Their lovely but why?"

"My way of apologizing for getting you involved with the likes of Marsac." Avoiding her piercing gaze, d'Artagnan's eyes roamed the kitchen. "And keeping the whole truth from you."

Pointing to one of the chairs she said, "Sit." It was more an order than a suggestion. While Constance waited for him to do so, she went to fetch some hot tea that had just been prepared. "I'm not mad at you any longer." Setting two empty cups on the table, she noted d'Artagnan's bemused expression. "By now I should be used to you doing something stupid."

"I deserved that and more." While sipping the hot beverage, d'Artagnan stared into his cup rather than look directly into Constance's blue eyes.

Reaching out her hand she gently took one of the Gascon's into her own. "What was Aramis doing here a few nights ago?"

"Constance." Trying to pull his hand away, d'Artagnan realized that she had surprising strength behind her slight frame.

"I thought we were becoming friends."

The hurt in her voice made d'Artagnan uncomfortable. "We are friends." Running his free hand through his long hair, he sighed. "But this has to do with Marsac and I didn't think you'd want to speak about him."

"I'll share if you will." Knowing something had been off with d'Artagnan ever since Marsac's attack on her, Constance wanted to discuss it with him. She too needed to get things off her chest. No time like the present it seemed.

++++

_Aramis' apartments_

"Quit banging the door down! I'm coming!" It had to be Porthos. Only his friend's large fist could ever make that loud thumping noise. Throwing the door open Aramis leaned against it, waving both Porthos and Athos inside. "Thought I shook you two off after our last sessions with those recruits were finished."

Chuckling, Porthos sat down. "We ain't gotten rid of that easily, Mis."

Leaning back in the chair he now occupied, chapeau resting on his legs which were comfortably propped up on Aramis' empty table, Athos raised a brow at the marksman. "We've come to help."

Staring at the two men as if he had never met them before, Aramis didn't know whether they were confused or he was. "Help me? What do I need help with?"

"That _guilt_ your still carryin' around your neck that's draggin' ya down."

"I could not have put it better myself, Porthos." Dipping his head at the bigger man Athos' blue eyes kept a close watch on Aramis.

"D'Artagnan's healing," Aramis shrugged. "So too am I." Giving them a sly look, Aramis remarked, "Only thing I'm _guilty_ of lately is taking up where I left off giving Charisse those theology lessons that got interrupted upon Marsac's arrival."

Sharing a bored look with Porthos, Athos tilted his head to the side. " _Charisse_?" His brows drew together while trying to put a face to the name. "I don't recall you ever mentioning this one."

"It wasn't theology Mis was teachin' 'er either. The husband's outta town." Winking at his older brother, Porthos knew the man understood.

"Do you not get tired of using that same old excuse when visiting one of your lady friends, Aramis?" Athos drawled. "Why not tell us you're teaching them how to shoot. That at least would be more believable."

"Look, gentlemen, and I use that term loosely," spreading his arms wide, Aramis shook his head, "let's get to the point of your visit." Sitting down himself he relaxed stretching his long legs out in front of him. "Savoy is dead and buried along with Marsac." Pinching the bridge of his nose Aramis leaned his head back. "Unfortunately Constance and our young one were unintentionally placed in Marsac's crosshairs."

"If I had the faintest idea Marsac was going to bring all this trouble with him," Athos voice was stone cold, "I would have killed him first and been done with it then."

Sharp, dark eyes narrowed on his old friend. Knowing Athos was right still didn't help the guilt Aramis said he was over. But he never could lie very well and knew his brothers saw right through him.

"I'm right sorry that I didn't take the chance ta pop Marsac in the face when I could 'ave. Maybe it woulda knocked some sense inta 'is addled mind." Snorting, Porthos shared a raised eyebrow with Athos.

"Look at it this way." Slapping hands on his thighs Aramis stood up. "Treville's alive and I found the answers I was seeking," his lips pursed. "Not that I'm happy about what we discovered." Going to the liquor cabinet Aramis took out three glasses and a bottle of wine. "I've come to terms with the past now and the captain's part in it." Placing the empty glasses down on the table where his brothers sat, Aramis pulled the cork out of the bottle with his teeth. After pouring the wine, he raised his glass in the air. " _To future orders!_ " Tipping his head back Aramis threw back the red liquid in one go. " _That we may not always obey!_ "

"Hear, hear!" Raising his own glass to that toast, Porthos chugged down his drink.

Staring down into his untouched drink Athos' eyes flicked toward the marksman. "We're still going to keep an eye on d'Artagnan when we go on our next mission.

"Yeah," Porthos grunted. "Kid's still gonna be nervy."

"Let's face some facts." Athos stated in a flat tone. "The youngster's a farm boy from Lupiac." Lips twisting into something ugly, he looked away from the curious stares of the other two. "I doubt very much if d'Artagnan's ever been approached by another male in that manner."

"Ha!" Head bobbing up and down, Porthos agreed. "There probably wasn't even a brothel in the whelp's town. Somethin' like this 'appens ta 'im and it's no wonder the kid's jumpy and losin' sleep."

"But d'Artagnan's told us..." Biting his lips, Aramis' scowl darkened when Athos interrupted with a hand slash in the air.

"You believed the pup?" Finally Athos drank his wine then reached the bottle for a refill.

"The whelp's usual _I'm fine routine_ is wearin' thin, Mis."

"All right. All right." Blowing out a breath, Aramis went to stare out the window.

"Talking about it just makes the lad clam up. As Porthos just said the _I'm fine_ response d'Artagnan's been doling out is getting old." Feeling like doing something violent right now, Athos restrained himself from throwing his glass into the fireplace.

"Gettin' the whelp ta admit what that batard tried ta do ta d'Artagnan was a start." Drumming his fingers on the table Porthos then fisted them. "But kid needs ta get the fear all outta 'im. I know it's still bottled up."

"Easier said than done, mon ami." Sitting back down, Aramis stared at the walls. "Tis like pulling teeth to get any of us to admit our own fears. Less alone the boy's. It was simply pure luck that I got the lad to tell me that much."

"Then," placing his glass on the table, Athos put his chapeau back on, "we shall make sure to give d'Artagnan enough tasks to occupy his mind and body so that all he will want to do at day's end is drop into bed exhausted."

"And pray the nightmares are held at bay." Understanding that logic, Aramis nodded his approval. Tis something they've all done and still do when the past comes back to haunt them.

Getting ready to depart, Porthos clapped a hand on Aramis' shoulder. "Thanks for the wine."

"Ah, mon frere," a chuckle escaped Aramis. "Real friends know when to give you a drink."

Wagging the nearly empty bottle of wine in the air Athos finished with, "But best friends know when to hand you the bottle."

Still laughing as they went out the door, Athos and Porthos dragged Aramis along with them.

++++

_Back to the Bonacieux residence_

Knowing Constance was just as stubborn and willful as he was, d'Artagnan didn't feel she would drop this line of questioning soon. Living in such close quarters, it was going to be difficult to evade her for very long. "When Aramis came to see me I was sleeping, for lack of a better word for it," d'Artagnan dryly remarked. To which his admission didn't appear to surprise her at all. Perhaps his nightmares could be heard throughout the house, which made him cringe inside at the thought that he had been disturbing Constance's own sleep. "I was having another nightmare at the time and Aramis heard me pleading with Marsac to stop."

Covering her mouth with trembling fingers, the soft gasp that tried to come out died in her throat. When d'Artagnan turned those soulful brown eyes upon Constance, she could read the pain there he had been trying to hide from her.

"Tis not what you're thinking," d'Artagnan winced. "Bien, perhaps not all of it." Still trying to tug his right hand out of her grasp, d'Artagnan felt her nails begin digging into his skin. "Mmmmm," he hummed. "Constance, tis my sword hand. Do take a care."

"Oh, I'm so sorry." Noting the marks she had left, Constance eased her hold.

"It happened right after Marsac attacked you. We took him back to Aramis' place. The others left me in charge of him while they tried to dig up more information." With his other hand d'Artagnan took a sip of his tea that had since grown cold. Pulling a face, he pushed the cup aside. "After I secured the door and turned around Marsac had vanished. Ended up he was waiting for me in the bedroom."

"D'Artagnan, you don't have to go on." It was as if he hadn't heard her. The hand that Constance held now tightened on her own, his fingers curling around hers.

"He came at me from behind." Staring up at the ceiling d'Artagnan's eyes tightly closed. "Got me on the bed," he started to choke on his words. "Mon Dieu he was strong! Just like Porthos. I couldn't shake him off." Leaning forward he looked into her frightened expression.

"Did he try to kiss you?" Oh don't say anymore, d'Artagnan. In that moment Constance decided she didn't want nor needed to hear anything further, because it was upsetting for the young man to remember. Why couldn't she keep her mouth shut?

"I wouldn't call stabbing his tongue down my throat kissing per se." His response came out rather sarcastic, bringing a smirk to play about d'Artagnan's lips. "While doing that Marsac's hands roamed all over my body and then he started to unlace my shirt. Fortunately for me my brothers came back at that point which prevented Marsac from following through with his intentions."

"Why was he allowed to strut around like nothing ever happened?" Completely forgetting that Constance just told herself she didn't want to learn anything more, she prodded him with another question.

"He threatened the lives of my friends if I ever told them. Starting with Aramis first." Turning his burning eyes away from her, d'Artagnan tried not to see the disgust that may be written on Constance's face. When a gentle touch to his chin turned his head back around, d'Artagnan only noted tenderness in the young woman's look.

"You did nothing to be ashamed of," she offered warmly. Getting up Constance went to re-heat the water. "I think more tea is called for. Ours has gotten cold."

"I felt so dirty afterward," his eyes followed Constances' movements at the stove. "I kept trying to think if there was any reason why Marsac went after me like that. It certainly wasn't because I liked him. It was the complete opposite actually." He caught her looking back at him strangely and wondered at it. "After only a short time in his company I began to dislike him intensely but for Aramis' sake didn't make a big deal out of it."

He remembered the words Marsac spat at him about d'Artagnan not being a Musketeer and patted himself on the back for his own response to that uncalled for remark. The memory was still fresh like it had happened that day, when d'Artagnan threw it right back at Marsac that he wasn't a Musketeer either. So he told Constance all of this, wearing a pleased smirk on his face. "We nearly came to blows over it too. Though Porthos intervened."

"I'm amazed Porthos didn't want to pummel Marsac for what he insinuated." Setting the two cups of tea back down, Constance began to take a sip.

"He more or less threatened Marsac about _not going there_." Thinking upon it now, d'Artagnan could actually feel amusement over that incident.

"That's probably what attracted Marsac to you." Grinning impishly Constance knew d'Artagnan didn't see it. "Your feisty nature. You never back down. I don't think you even know how."

Sitting back in his chair, more relaxed, d'Artagnan had patiently waited his turn. "Okay. I've told you my story. What about you?"

"Marsac's attempts with me didn't get nearly as far as he had with you but," Constance chewed on her lips, "I'll admit that he scared the wits out of me while I struggled in his arms."

Lips twitching slightly, d'Artagnan cocked his head. "One would never have known that from your words and actions afterward."

"A woman in a man's world, d'Artagnan, has to show some guts or be walked all over." Taking the empty cups back to the sink, Constance glanced from the corner of her eyes at the young Gascon. "Jacques travels so much for his business he is rarely home. I have to put on a brave front so that other men don't get stupid ideas stuck in their thick heads that I'm fair game to any takers." Listening to d'Artagnan's snuff of laughter, Constance's own joined his. "After all I have three brothers. Growing up with them I learned how to handle myself."

"Whether you wanted too or not." Coming up behind her d'Artagnan rested his chin on her shoulder. "Monsieur Bonacieux should stay home more often to protect you from louts like Marsac... or my friend's hairbrained schemes."

"My husband would be underfoot all the time if he did so." She shook her head at the despairing thought. "I'd never get any work done." A thought struck her as Constance stared into d'Artagnans face. "You know if you want to make everything up to me there is something I'd like to ask of you."

"Ask and if tis within my power you shall have it." Bowing magnificently before her, d'Artagnan winked.

Giggling, Constance then whispered into his ear, "Teach me to shoot and sword word too. I always fancied handling a blade."

That was not what he expected, stunning him into silence lasting a full minute while he thought upon it. "I know a spot where I could begin teaching you. If tis what you really want."

"Oh it is! It is!" She was jumping up and down with joy. "I shall have more confidence in myself once I learn how to handle those weapons if anyone tries to accost me from now on."

A devilish imp got into d'Artagnan then. Grabbing her hands, he began pulling her outside through the kitchen door.

"What do you think you're doing?" she squeaked.

"Constance, have we not both aired out what happened?"

"Oui." Noting d'Artagnan's eyes had lost that haunted quality, Constance let herself be led out of her home.

"Then let's go for a walk. Tis early enough." He gave her his best puppy dog eyes. "We can go into the city and get a pastry or two."

"I've got work to do still." Complaining halfheartedly, part of Constance loved the idea.

"I've got palace duty later, so what?" he countered, eyes twinkling with mischief. So absorbed in getting her to see things his way, d'Artagnan didn't hear his brothers approaching.

"What 'as ya all smiles youngin'" They had all decided to treat the whelp to dinner again, before d'Artagnan had to report to the palace. On seeing that the pup looked like he had other things planned, Porthos turned to his other comrades.

"Oh I just feel happy." He gave them all a cheeky grin. "I'm trying to talk Constance into going for a sweet at Augustins."

"D'Artagnan and I have been discussing Marsac." Whispering that to Athos, Constance felt the older Musketeer gently press her hand.

"Ah!" His blue eyes sparkled, Athos was indeed pleased to hear that. Perhaps they wouldn't have to be too concerned over the boy after all.

"Do go with him, Constance." Kissing the tips of his fingers, Aramis sighed in pleasure. "Augustin's pastries are to die for."

"I don't feel like dyin' anytime soon," Porthos commented. "But I could go for a stuffed croissant filled with cream," he licked his lips.

"Then let's all go!" cried d'Artagnan. He was delighted to have all his friends around him.

So it was that arm in arm they all walked into the city. If other people had to step out of their way the Parisians didn't seem to mind as the group was a happy one, not causing any trouble.

The inseparables were greatly relieved that their youngest appeared on the mend and that Constance, whom they were all positive had been more shaken up over what had happened to her than she let on, was mending along with the pup.

"Augustin's beware! You are about to be invaded!" Aramis exclaimed. His heart was feeling light as a feather. _Regrets_... oui there were still a few but fast fading away in the presence of good company. If there was anything to learn out of this it was that Porthos needed to teach d'Artagnan even dirtier tricks. Perhaps even a trip to the Court would help educate the young Gascon in those tactics. Though he expected Athos to protest quite loudly against the latter. But Aramis would address all of that after filling himself up with the delicacies he was about to taste.

The End

++++

_Notes:_

_Quote: "Coffee keeps me busy until it's time to get drunk."_ Is from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "Real friends know when to give you a drink. Best friends know when to hand you the bottle."_ Is also from Aunty Acid. _  
_


End file.
